


Initial Responses

by fallouise



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Angst, F/F, Maki-centric, One Shot, Road Trips, Self-Acceptance, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallouise/pseuds/fallouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her breath tickles my ear as she brings her lips up to whisper, "It means to 'take a chance on happiness'." // Maki finds herself on a road trip of new places, new experiences, and most importantly, new people. But time and distance can only mean so much when she doesn't know what she's driving away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initial Responses

I saw leather -- a dark sheen from the dim streetlight we stood under, a hand dragging its zipper downward -- before I felt lips capture my own.  _Oh_ , I thought as she pushed me against the pole. My head knocked on metal and I gasped at the impact, her tongue slipping in over mine.  _Oh_ , I thought again. I never did ask her name. We're practically strangers. She broke away just near enough so she could shrug off the leather jacket, tossing it onto the ground.

"You should _nn._.." She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me close, cutting off any train of thought. I pressed my leg between hers and nervous excitement spiked when she grinded against me.

"What'd you say, Maki?" Her panting blew against my neck, not quite sure if the shiver was because of her or the night chill.

"Your  _jacket..._  not on the ground," I said in a thick voice, her thumbs massaging against my hips firmly.

"Keep it," she stepped away, but not before she tugged me by the belt loops of my jeans towards my car. "It'll be there in the morning." She bumped against the car door, and I leaned onto her, feeling her hands roam around to my pants pocket. I moved in for a kiss; she hungrily complied.

Closing my eyes, I lost myself in the sensations. Bodies lurching together against the cold, sighs and pants begging for one second longer, one touch warmer. "Ngh--" A moan from the back of my throat escaped me.

I traced my hands up her arms, her shoulders, until I linked fingers behind her neck. When she pulled the keys from my back pocket, she craned her head to look at me. I noticed her eyes -- ruby.

I stopped.

She immediately caught on. "You don't want to?" She removed her hands from me, cold greeting me where she once was. I shook my head. Nothing. Nothing. I pressed her against the car again, but she refused to budge. "Hey, just tell me."

I muttered a shallow response, "We agreed. No strings attached."

She twirled the keys in a loop around her index finger, bringing the digit to rest against my collarbone. Her voice was coaxing, "You tell me, I listen, and  _afterwards_ , things might get going."

"Might?" I stared at her finger, before meeting her eyes. Upon closer regard, her eyes were unfamiliar, unguarded and playful, unlike the intense flare I was used to. I found that I didn't have a problem with that.

I watched as her lips smirked, "Why don't you tell me and find out?"

* * *

Some time has passed since I took to the steering wheel. With packed bags and rushed goodbyes, the road welcomed me with nothing but my thoughts and my music to fill the time.  I tried keeping a journal, but it's not the same as writing down compositions. Words never worked right for me.

It's four in the morning and I'm eating takeout in the car, and if I'm honest, I haven't felt this weightless from worry in a while. I don't have anything planned for today. Nothing but asphalt ahead of me and so much of everything to put behind me.

I get out of the car to throw trash away. The parking lot is empty, save for the cars of workers on morning shift. It's easy to imagine that I am completely alone. My fingers find the inner lining of my leather jacket.

Maybe there would have been another 4 AM, where I'd wake up just as weightless but not as alone.

Maybe there would have been someone there with me.

Before I know it, I'm turning the ignition on.

* * *

Two voicemails, two different people. The sun is setting and I'm leaning against the hood of the car, still warm from use. I've kept my phone on silent since leaving on this trip, but I know I can't keep ignoring everyone forever. I know that.

I select the first voicemail and hold it up to my ear. " _Maki-chaaan!_ " Nozomi sing-songs in a way that's carefree and careful all at once. I cradle the phone in one hand. " _I know you listen to these voicemails even though you never call back--_ " my first instinct is to rebuke her statement, before I realize Nozomi is nowhere near me. " _\-- so I hope just leaving this message is enough. Ah. Rin-chan and Hanayo-chan came by the other day. They haven't changed much._ "

The peak of the sun is slipping under the horizon. I'm silent as Nozomi continues. " _They're thinking of having a reunion party when you come back... we're ready for you to come back, y'know. No one is angry at you."_  I put the phone on speaker as I move back into the car. I'm trying to filter through my thoughts, but latching onto any one is fruitless; I focus on the white noise instead, then, on the silence on Nozomi's end of the message. I play with the sleeve end of leather. What was she doing? Did she expect me to answer a one-way voicemail? " _Take your time, Maki-chan. But you know more than anyone when you're stalling._ "

Her message ends. The white noise disappears.

I'm left staring at the next voicemail, a single touch away. Unlike Nozomi's message -- just that morning, surprisingly, while I was eating takeout -- I've been avoiding this one since the day I left. I deleted this contact from my phone, but I recognize this sequence of numbers as if they were my own. Then Nozomi's words wash over me slowly, not quite a realization but more of a reminder, like recalling a faded memory.

Stalling, huh.

I press on the voicemail.

* * *

" _It's Nico-nico-nii, gracing your voice mailbox with her angelic voice! I had to find out from your mama that you weren't around anymore. That really breaks my heart-nico. Can't even trust your bestie with important information like that?_

_"I know you said we shouldn't talk for a bit, but you're Maki-chan. How could anyone ignore you? Even an idol as busy as me will always have time for you._

_"The Number One Idol in the Universe just wants to make sure the Number One Heartbreaker didn't leave because of one little break!_

_"... Call me back soon, Maki."_

* * *

I turn my phone off, and recline the seat backwards.

I take one solid, deep breath, then imagine of what I'd do tomorrow, in a city I've never been in, among people I've never met.

My last lingering thought is where and who I'll be at the end of this.

* * *

The exact distance I've gone is lost to me, but I'm far, and farther is where I need to be.

Days begin blending together, misty blue mornings seamlessly mixing with hazy red afternoons and bright lonely nights. There are people from all walks of life and places that I would never have sought out otherwise. I get lost in its glamor, get distracted by the new sights and experiences.

Today I'm sitting on a yellow park bench, a cloudless blue sky as my backdrop. A thought occurs to me about how picturesque this all is. And wasn't Hanayo looking into photography before I left? With how long I've been gone, was she still pursuing the interest? A stray feeling of insecurity flits across my mind. I pocket my fists into the leather jacket, and kick my feet out.

"Hello, young lady," I look up to see an old woman on the side. Her hair is dappled with silver, her eyes are wrinkling at the corners. She's aged gracefully, I think. Life has been kind to her. "Would the bench be open for two?"

I nod and scoot to one end. "How... are you today?" My hands are still clenched in my pockets, but I smile at the elderly woman. When she returns the gesture, her entire face lifts.

"I'm well, dear, don't you go worrying about me," she shifts herself so we're both overlooking the modest park of a field and a small playset. Living in a developing town surrounded by big city complexes has disillusioned me; this sense of quiet is completely different than what it was back home. Beautiful -- in a disconcerting way, as if I could only appreciate this because I've left some place else. "Tell me, miss. What's a young girl doing out here?" I smooth out my grimace before I face her. In her eyes, I see a sympathetic companionship. She's trying to reach out to me. "You looked lonely on this bench, on such a pretty day. I couldn't let you be."

"I'm not," my breath hitches, "bad."

"Young lady, I've lived a long life and I've never been less convinced," she chides, a whimsical laugh hiding behind her reprimands.

Indignation flares at her calling me out, never minding whether she was right or not. "I'm sorry if I'm not opening up to a stranger."

"Oh? And who, then, if not a stranger, would you talk to?" She's smug, and I'm simmering. So I turn my head away, unable to find a proper rebuttal. I curse years of understanding more, of more experience and more opportunities. Being older means giving up. Being older means going away.

It's unfortunate-- how much faith I hold for people who are older. And like always, I take a risk on them.

"I'm on a road trip," I venture, still not facing her. I have to ignore the white noise, and focus on the conversation. "I'm just homesick, I guess."

"Traveling is good, necessary even. I've had a good road trip or two myself," At her words, I turn to her again. From a person I did not expect to meet, I find validation I did not know I need. Her form fills with life as she continues, "So whatever is stopping you from enjoying your adventure isn't here now, yes?"

"You're not," I agree slowly. "wrong." It's as if I am walking along a precipice, about to make one step too close to the edge. Every word rings true, but the more I resonate with her well-meaning advice, the more I feel myself step away from safe ground.

"I'm not right either?" She implores, and I remove my hands from the pockets to cross my arms. I feel like I've been bared for all to see. I look into her eyes -- a warm, trusting brown -- but hesitance holds me by the throat. Her eyebrows raise just a fraction before she speaks, "On my travels, it's the people I met along the way that helped me realize where I should go next. But I can't force you into anything you don't want to hear."

"I want to hear," I whisper. The old woman cups a hand around her ear, brushing away silver hair, and I raise my voice. "but I'm scared." She leans in: please elaborate, be more direct. I imagine myself walking the edge, playing with the idea of slipping. Then the words pour out of me and I'm falling, blood rushing through my ears and heart beating erratically, knocking against my rib cage. "I went on this road trip to forget about someone, but I see her in everything. I have all these thoughts and things I never told her, but it's over. Only it's not, at least for me. And-- and you're telling me to let go, but--"

"But you're scared," she finishes for me. My silence is its own answer. A heavy moment passes before a sandpaper hand rests on my forearm. "I think," she says in a small voice, as if she wary of overstepping. "you need a little more of this road trip to help you on your way."

She didn't say anything that I didn't already know, but putting everything into words has helped me. A lot.

I smile at her, an action that isn't quite there but it's present, it's there. "So why did  _you_  go on a road trip before?" An image: in the middle of a grass field with a play structure on the side, I am sitting on a yellow bench with an elderly woman, seeking guidance for a road trip that had no itinerary. There are no clouds in the sky, leaving only an expansive blue that holds my and everyone else's separate worlds without interruption. The old woman hums a familiar tune as she thinks of an answer.

She flashes a grin that reminds me of Honoka, the kind of familiarity like that of a warm August evening. "I think a better question to ask would be 'what reason did I have to stay'?"

I feel like laughing. A part of me hopes I'll turn out to be like her when I grow up. Another part of me is annoyed that she never actually answered me. "Can I ask one more question?" I reach for my phone.

"May we take a picture together?" Hanayo would like this story.

* * *

"If you tell anyone, I'm hanging up right now." I'm in the next town over, parked at a boulevard of local shops. The lined trees create a parallel to the street that is too perfect, too clean cut for me. I walk past each store with disinterest, instead bringing my attention to the one person who hasn't contacted once since my departure: Kotori.

"Eh? Maki-chan?" She sounds confused, and I hear papers shuffling and a pencil falling from the desk before she speaks again. Am I interrupting her work? "Is that really you?! Oh Maki-chan, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I say. Now that I've actually called her, my tongue runs dry.

It takes Kotori just a few seconds before she speaks again. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm happy to hear  _you_. It's been awhile..."

"Yeah, it has," I can tell that she has other things she wants to say, but for selfish reasons I don't indulge her. "How's America treating you?" Despite declining the offer in her second year of high school, Muse's success has helped Kotori gain enough recognition to be offered the scholarship once more, this time after she graduated. Since then, Kotori's been studying abroad, in a land not even I can imagine. Road trips here are worlds different than what it must be in America.

"Everyday's a new day," Kotori releases a breathy laugh and I smile into the phone. Sounds like New York's stolen her breath. "I tried to convince Honoka and Umi to move here, but I guess big cities aren't their scene." She huffs a little.

"Maybe I can visit you sometime, show me around," I make small talk as I cross the street. Summer has saturated the colors of everything: reds brighter, blues cooler, blacks darker. It doesn't seem real, almost, like an exaggerated dream.

"You definitely should, when you come back--  _eep_!" I pause as Kotori struggles to articulate some form of excuse. Of course she knows. Honoka calls her up every night, just as it's the most convenient time in the morning for Kotori. Her and Umi are always exchanging emails. Of course Kotori would know. "Please don't hang up, Maki-chan, it's been forever."

I release my breath, and force myself to walk into the closest store, an innocent-looking flower shop with bouquets set around its door. If anything, the distractions will keep me on call. "I won't, Kotori. But--" I make eye contact with the girl at the cash register, raising my hand in greeting. She smiles, but sees my phone and opts for a small wave. "I just want to talk to you, like everything is normal. Can we do that?" I’m desperate for small talk with someone who knows me. But I’m not ready to face everyone. Not yet.

"We can do that," her reply is almost instantaneous. And so Kotori rambles: Rin and Eli have been making dancing videos on YouTube whenever they can meet up, a funny mix of hip hop and classically trained that surprisingly meshes well together. Hanayo is still in photography and taking a course to develop her interest. Apparently some of her works have even been featured in magazines (Rin would have them all). Honoka and Umi have stayed close to home, slowly taking over the responsibilities of their respective family's works. Nozomi's gotten a job as a teacher at Otonokizaka; she's the one who keeps in contact with everyone.

Everyone but two people. My heart wrenches, but I ignore it.

"Sounds like everyone's been busy..." I murmur, latching my fingers around a white violet. I ought to buy a flower for loitering for so long. I raise the small pot to the girl, and she nods.

"You've been busy too, you know! We just don't know it, hehe," my phone is warm between my shoulder and ear, but Kotori's words are comforting. Nozomi was right; no one is angry.

"Kotori, um. I was wondering. You know, you’re the only one who hasn’t called me once since I left. I mean," I grow flustered at having been so forward with my inquiries. I blush even as Kotori giggles into the phone. "No-- wait, you don't have to answer that. That sounded conceited of me."

"I want to answer that, silly," Kotori wastes no time. Her voice is filled with a soft reverie, but I can hear the smile behind her words. "I know what it's like to need some space, Maki-chan. You'll reach out when you're ready." I walk up to the cashier and let the girl take the pot from my hands. "And look. You did! And I'm proud of you for it."

"Hey..." I thought I'd gotten better at affection, but Kotori still finds a way to make me blush like a smitten schoolgirl. How embarrassing-- I find myself grateful that at least one thing hasn't changed. "I'll text you later. Thanks for talking, Kotori. And good luck on your project," I add on the last part, imagining the fallen and forgotten pencil.

"Anytime-- but not now!" A surprised squeak came from the phone. "I totally forgot. See you, Maki-chan! Love you, bye-bye."

I slip the phone into my pocket and retrieve my wallet instead, and I must look ridiculous to the girl, smiling to myself. "Sorry it took me awhile," I say, slipping a bill across the counter.

She starts counting my change. "Don't worry about it. We've all been there," she hands me the money. I notice pale pink nail polish before I see matching lipgloss. "And can I say how pretty you look when you blush?"

I pocket the cash but cover my face with my other hand. "W-Well," I start, embarrassed but flattered. If all the world was perfect, then I wouldn't have gone on this road trip. And there's the solid fact that I  _am_  traveling, miles upon miles from home, looking for experiences that I can call my own. I pull my flower pot closer to me, but I don't make a motion to leave. "It wouldn't be the first time I've heard that."

Her eyes sparkle and she leans forward. "Then will it be your first time to hear what a white violet means?" She reaches across the counter to hold my pot -- careful that we don't come into contact with each other -- and gives an experimental tug. I imagine the flowers, colorful and exaggerated, in a street that's too perfect and surreal. I can get lost in this, I think. Nothing outside of right now is touching me. I slide my hands to rest on hers, angling the side of my head towards her.

Her breath tickles my ear as she brings her lips up to whisper, "It means to ' _take a chance on happiness'_."

So I take it.

* * *

It's nighttime when I get the call.

I'm on the road: headlights on, soft jazz playing on a low volume, the grumbling hum of the car. I plan to reach the next destination over before midnight, grab a few hours of sleep at a motel, then be on my way. For some reason or another, I get the feeling that I should drive past this town. I don't believe in premonition but I'm wary of my gut feeling, though I can't ignore the fact that I'm running low on sleep and my car is running low on gas. I have no choice but to stop for the night.

Overhead, streetlights pass over my car one by one. Its light captures different items. One flash shines the potted white violet in the passenger seat, another beam on the leather jacket thrown over the back, then on the two luggages I've been living out of. I glance on my dashboard to where I have the photograph of the old woman and myself. And not for the first time tonight do I think to myself about how far I've traveled.

I drive past the city sign -- its population, smaller than my own hometown -- and tune out my thoughts to the vibrato of Frank Sinatra. The city lights grow nearer. I feel drawn to the way the blurred skyline becomes clearer, until it becomes tangible, until it becomes buildings and households and different people walking their own paths of life. I coast along the town's main street and pull myself to a stop at the first gas station I find.

The concrete and bare lights of the gas station make for a bleached white that's almost blinding. A few stray people are walking in pairs, but tonight I'm alone. I reach my arm backwards and retract it with the leather jacket in hand, putting it on with familiar ease as I exit the car. The night air is refreshing. I feel free, unbound from all restraints. For tonight and every day afterwards, I am on this road trip for myself.

I breathe in the moment, relishing in its freedom.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

It doesn't register to me at first. Then it does. And when the second vibration buzzes against my hip, that's when it hits me. Someone is calling me. Didn't I have my phone on silent? Who would be awake in the middle of the night? My fingers slip into my pocket and pull it out, and then the world freezes.

I don't have this contact in my phone anymore, but I have these digits burned into memory, like the imprint of a hand cradling my heart, something so vulnerable to impressions that its mark is always forever there.

It feels like a slap on the face, stinging from a solid hit.

I never did forget her.

Nico.

My phone vibrates once again, and my surroundings come back to me -- gas station, nearing midnight, with no connections to tie me down except to the one person on the other side of the call. My heart seizes. If I don't answer now, this one chance will be gone forever. If I don't answer now, then my trip can continue undisturbed. If I don't answer now, I can still back away.

The screen flashes for a fourth, damning time.  _You know more than anyone when you're stalling--_

I answer the call.

My eyes spontaneously water when I hear her voice, hard and abrasive and every bit as I remember. "Dammit, Maki." She's unintelligible; I'm lost for words. "You-- why didn't you call... at least once." I'm hit, like a fast-moving object slammed into inertia. Her words hurt just as much as I yearned to hear them. I recall all at once the attraction to Nico: pushing away with a facade, pulling in with genuineness, trapping me in a confusing mix between both sides of her. A star so bright she'd burn those who got too close.

"I'm  _sorry_ , Maki," and that's when I realize she's been speaking the entire time, her voice too small of a whisper for most of her words to come through. I slowly come to my senses. My head is still winding, but Nico's words are slurring and her breathing is heavy. This is a different side of Nico. "I know you didn't want to talk, but I h-had to. Shit, I'm groveling at your feet. But I  _need_  yo--"

"Nico-chan, shut up," I interrupt her mutterings, but I can barely feel mild satisfaction when all noise from her end cuts off. I have to think fast. "Where are you?"

Her voice is sharp just as much as it is unclear, plowing through madly in search of something unreachable. "Why the hell would I tell you--"

I wipe my watery eyes in the frustration that draws inside of me. "You wouldn't have called if you had anyone else. Just tell me where you are,  _please,"_  I beg her, feeling my emotions get the best of me. "How much did you drink? And where  _are_  you?" I throw the gas pump back on its handle, jerking the car door open and wrestling my keys into the ignition. Anxiety rises when she doesn't answer. Did she end the call?

"I don't know, I... I'm in a small town," her voice is weak, but she's speaking, and at the moment that's the best situation for now. "I needed to get away, or. N-No, I needed to find something. Someone.  _You."_  One hand clenches the steering wheel while the other grips the phone, and I forcefully close my eyes. These are not the words I need to hear right now. "It's this small town-- small. Like, stupidly small. Tinier than our place back at Akiba."

The words ring a bell. It's too much of a coincidence for me.

What are the chances that we'd be in the same town on the same night?

"I'm in some stinky alley, because the bar threw me out, those jerks."

I drive away from the gas station, my heart beating too loudly, pounding and hurting and feeling every word of Nico's. She is nonsensical again. But in a small town barely big enough for a lofty bar, it won't be too hard to find the area. "Nico-chan, just stay where you are... I'll be there soon."

"W-Wait," a single syllable. I listen. "don't hang up. Your-- I've missed your voice."

I'm at a red stop, and I have to breathe in, out, slowly, one by one. I need to talk. I have to keep speaking, to Nico, to the person I've been driving away from as I currently drive towards her. "What should I talk about?" I ask blindly, staring at red lights and red memories.

It sounds like she's fading as she whispers, "Anything... where you've been."

"Nico-chan, you've gotta stay with me, okay?" A grunt. I have to keep talking. "I, uh, I went on this road trip. It's where I've been all this time. And I didn't know what I'd find when I left. I still don't know if I found what I'm looking for." I have to keep talking. "But it's beautiful--" I have to keep talking. "-- all of it. I... I wish you were there to see it."

I stop talking. I shouldn't have said that.

Nico speaks again just as I see the blinking sign of a bar just up ahead. "Did you meet someone?"

"What?" I say below my breath.

Suddenly her voice is loud. Convictive. Desperate. "Have you moved  _on_ , Maki?"

The wind howls in my ears as I park my car, heart in a tumult and eyes searching for the alleyway. I'm at a crossroads, though I don't know which road leads to where. I slip into the nearest alley, holding my phone to my ear, holding my breath. It's dark, and I have to strain both my eyes and ears for any sign of Nico. Have I moved on, I think, as I step forward agonizing step by step, praying to some higher power that I was right, that Nico was somehow in the same town as me? Have I moved on, when my mouth refuses to answer?

I hear a shoe scuffing against ground. A shadowed figure leaning against the wall shifts their arm, and the bright flash of a phone screen paralyzes me. It shines on a face, proud and broken. Red eyes. Hair down. Nico.

I end our call. Rushing to her side, I kneel beside her, cautious of reaching out. But I have no time to think. She needs help. Her eyes are unfocused and her entire face is drenched in sweat. "Nico-chan..." She's a mess, pitifully so. I hesitate for a second, before I pull my arms under her shoulders and shift her to lean on me. "What happened to you-?"

I don't give her time to talk as I stand up, forcing her to walk towards the car. I have to help. She needs the alcohol out of her system. Water. A place to rest. Pills for the headache. Food in her stomach. It's taking too long to get to the car, and for every second I have to hold up her entire weight, a terrible pit widens in me. I need to talk. That's what she wanted. "Any other night--"

Nico makes a noise between a whine and a sigh: recognition.

I try pushing her forward. "For any other person, I would've thought worse of them, you know. But, you're Nico-chan. You can carry the world on your shoulders like it's nothing..." We reach the sidewalk, and Nico lurches forward, crashing herself against the car as I try to follow after. I open the passenger door and remove the white violet, then direct her inside. I pull the seatbelt buckle across from her, until it clicks into place. "... and you always got yourself through the worst. Tonight doesn't change that. You'll get through this."

She makes no sign of registering anything of what I've just said, but I might be better off like that. I run around to the driver's seat, carefully placing the white violet between us.

Have I moved on? I stare at Nico's slumped body, and realize I don't have the answer. I turn the engine on, make a U-turn, and drive towards the motel. I'll go as I originally planned. A few hours of sleep. I'll make sure that things turn out alright, then be on my way again.

My body goes into automatic, then. I pay for two days and two nights for a single room with two beds, then drive out to the back. Nico has regained some form of consciousness, but she's so entirely inebriated that she still has trouble walking straight as we enter  the motel. I coax water into her. When she rushes into the bathroom, I hold her hair back. I sit her on the edge of the bed, and that's when she speaks for the first time in awhile.

"You're real... right?" I sit next to her and nod. Nico narrows her eyes, from scrutiny or her headache, I couldn't tell. "I don't believe it." A shaky thumb smooths against my cheek before she palms my face. I'm frozen, locked into place by her red eyes, unfocused yet smoldering, a tarnished fire burning defiantly. I don't move. My arms stay at my side, even as Nico sidles herself closer, her other hand on my thigh.

It's when she leans her head forward that I snap out of it. I stand up, stepping away and not facing her. "You're drunk."

I slip into the other bed with not another word or glance in Nico's direction. I can feel her stare even as I fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up just as the sun is rising, rays of light peeking out from behind the curtains and streaking across the room. I follow its direction until my gaze lands on the other bed. Nico is curled up under the sheets, too small a figure in too small a town for dreams larger than life. I get up from bed and quietly make my way into the bathroom to prepare for the day.

Last night had happened. Nico is asleep just outside the bathroom. I place my hands on the rims of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. I look shaken. My hair is uncombed, red strands curling in disarray. Whatever little sleep I had did not help much; my eyes are sunken and tired. I push one of the disposable toothbrushes out of its package, and go through the motions. I watch myself as I do so. I don’t like what I see.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a single knock on the door. "Maki-chaaaan," her voice drags on the last vowel, and it winds me back to two years ago, when life was okay. "How long are you going to brush your teeth? I need to piss."

I quickly spit out the gargled water, run my hand through my hair, and nod at myself through the mirror. Putting on a cool face as I open the door, I ignore how dead her eyes look, how tight her hold is on the door frame. "All yours." I linger as Nico passes me and into the bathroom, only returning to my bedside after she clicks the door close.

I leave some of my spare clothes outside the bathroom door, shrug on the leather jacket, and wait for her outside the motel room.

When she steps out -- the sleeves of my sweater just a little over her wrists -- we walk to the diner on the other side of the street. Our breath comes out in clouds.

I don't know what causes the shift in mood: who glanced at who first, who smiled just a little wider, who walked the other to a booth. I don't know why we suddenly started ignoring what had happened last night, or why I ordered our breakfasts for us, as if I still knew her favorite dish. But I can almost believe the quirk of her lips as she plays with the fork between her fingers. "I have the  _worst_  headache right now," she whispers conspiringly.

I lean against the cushioned back of the booth. "You shouldn't have come out if you're going to complain about it. I would've brought back food."

"And leave me all alone?" She lets the utensil tumble, the fork clattering on linoleum, a hand on her chest in fake offense. "I need time and devotion, Maki-chan, not just food and water!"

I suck in my breath. It hits a sore spot I didn't know was there. "Yeah, you're right."

Nico's eyes flicker, but she still maintains a smile. "Yeah, I'm always right," she answers in a way that makes me turn my head and scoff, resting my chin on a propped elbow.

Our food arrives, and the only sounds between us are utensils scraping against the plate. I slowly shift my eyes from my dish, then towards Nico-- she's staring back. And for a brief moment, I feel more lost than I have ever felt on my road trip. In her eyes, I do not see the strangers I've met, the sights I've seen, the things I've experienced. I see Nico, and a mirror of myself I'm not sure reflects who I am now. She makes a big show of swallowing her last spoonful, and gives a toothy grin.

I return it weakly.

* * *

"Nozomi? A teacher?" Nico's eyes are bright and her smile is wide. She's trying not to make a big deal out of it. We're walking down the main street, taking the long way around before we head back to the motel. It's the strange median in the morning where it's still chilly out, yet the sun is warm and awake. "I mean, good for her, but holy shit."

I hunch my shoulders, stepping in-tempo with Nico. "She's close to home and around people she loves. It suits her."

"People she loves, huh?" Nico exhales. We stop talking. When we cross the street I can feel her shoulder brush against mine. We keep our eyes forward. I don't acknowledge how her arm circles around my own -- her hand snaking down to link fingers within my jacket pocket -- and we don't acknowledge each other as we near the motel. My breath is even as I yank the motel key out and open the room.

"Close the door--" I interject, and Nico only obliges when she pushes me onto the rolling chair.

" _Maki_ ," she comes forward to trap me with both hands on either armrest, and now I meet her eyes, breath hard as she leans her forehead onto mine. I feel bare and vulnerable and all too familiar with the way Nico forces attention on herself. I hold my stare, challenging her to break first, to kiss me,  _hell_ , why won't she do it already. "I've missed you," she whispers. I have to ignore the jolt I feel at Nico's words as she moves in, tasting strawberry and alcohol.

I thought she'd have moved on by now. She was supposed to.

Nico is sliding the chair, and I let my shoes drag along carpet, closing my eyes when she hums into the kiss. The chair bumps against the edge of the bed. She withdraws, pulling me by the collar of my leather jacket and onto my feet. I just barely gain my footing -- my hooded eyes looking into her dilated ones -- when she shoves me onto the bed. It’s only a moment after I land on the mattress for her to crawl atop of me, one hand still fingering the collar and the other keeping me in place by pressing down on my abdomen. I flex on impulse and grin into the kiss when her hand grips my side. " _Fuck_ ," she whispers, carelessly and fleetingly. "I've missed you so much. It's been too long--"

"Shut up," my voice chokes, desperate to cut her off. She doesn't question as she dips her head down again, her tongue taking in mine. My hands stray to the small of Nico's back, and I'm spellbound when she breaks lip lock momentarily to whine against me.

I had thought this road trip would have helped me get over Nico. Now it's lead me right back to where I started, gasping underneath her, entangled and alive and wondering if Nico knows how powerful she is. Not even thousands of kilometers, handfuls of strangers, or stretches of time were enough to forget her. She's enchanting, I think, a biting reality sweeter than any dream. I draw my hands around her thighs, pulling her closer.

Nico unzips my jacket with one hand while the other traces over the metal teeth, one by one, downward.

So when she sits up --  _away_  -- I am confused.

I try to ease my panting, knitting my eyebrows together. "What is it?"

Her face is undecipherable. Just a few moments ago, I knew where I stood with her. I knew where things were headed. Her voice is clipped when she speaks. "Whose jacket is this?"

She flips the leather jacket so that the inner lining is outright, where initials are stitched in red.  _E.K._

That is not my name.

And suddenly my nerves are shot and my mouth is agape, and every moment on this road trip winds through my head because I was there for it all, whether or not I had gotten over Nico. A one-night stand in a city I can't recall, with a girl whose name I never learned. There's no way to phrase a proper answer-- so I keep my mouth shut, and turn my head to the side.

I hear her breathe in sharply. Then she's off me, a shaky chuckle on her lips. "H-Holy shit." I peer out of my peripheral vision to see Nico massaging her temples. Her eyes are screwed shut. Her entire form is shaking, and she forcibly turns her back to me. "I don't know what I was expecting, really. You dump me, you disappear without a word, and I thought-- shit, why did I think nothing would change?"

I hug the leather jacket closer to me, as treacherous as it feels. I have nothing else to cover me as she continues, "I couldn't concentrate at all with how you left me. And we  _finally_  meet again, and all I remember is that you helped me out of the mess I was in, and--" She turns on her heel and I have to force myself not to wince at the tears on her face. "What the hell do you take me for, Maki?"

My voice croaks, "Nico..."

"Am I another notch on your belt?" She wipes her eyes furiously against her sweater sleeve, and when she glares at me, her eyes are blotched red. "Are you  _trying_  to humiliate me?"

"No!" I scramble onto my feet. "Nico-chan, never-- you're worth more than anyone."

"Then what the fuck was this?" She jerks her hand towards the bed. "Is that a thing now? You sleep with everyone?"

Anger flares, momentarily. I can't reject her just as much as I can't accept her words. "And what about last night, Nico-chan? Was that your first time getting wasted?" Her figure stiffens and I lose my defiance, because all I want is to see her, without the complications tagged along with it.

I step towards her.

The audible smack from the slap she gives me echoes in my head. There's stars blurring my eyes, and the side of my face burns from where Nico hit me. That's when I know. I erect myself and keep my head bowed. I messed up. "I don't need to explain myself to you. Get out." Her voice grits between clenched teeth. "Get  _out_."

I listen to her.

* * *

I get into the car. In the cup holder beside me, the white violet still needs to be watered. I stare at it dully. This, too, is a part of something I can't ignore.

The whole affair with Nico has left me drained.

So I opt for the first thing that comes to mind: I drive away.

* * *

I've been on the road for hours, and the scene still replays in my head, like a scratched record. I don't which way to look at it, whose side to interpret, who is to blame. Rain is splattering against my car, and I slow my car down to park at a rest stop.

It hasn't rained much since I've gone on this road trip. My heart almost aches because I can't enjoy the occasion. I  _shouldn't_  enjoy it.

I rest my head against the top of the steering wheel, letting the white noise of the rain wash over my thoughts and leave behind nothing. I need a little bit of nothing after so much of everything.

I'm going about the day just as I've usually done, but it's not the same.

For the first time in a while, I am actually alone.

* * *

The next few days I stare at my phone.

It stays on my dashboard, untouched. No missed calls or voicemails.

* * *

I'm in a bar one night. I take a single sip of alcohol, and scrunch my nose at its taste.

I don't know how Nico could stand it. I realize I probably don't know much about Nico anymore.

* * *

**To: Nico Yazawa  
From: Maki Nishikino **

I'm sorry.

**Sent: 9:47 PM**  
**Read: 6:55 AM**

* * *

If road trips have taught me anything, it is that life crosses many people, and life passes many people too. On the drive back home, Nico neither calls nor texts me. I don't push her.

I arrive as midnight rolls around. I don't want to confront my parents in the middle of the night and I don't have anywhere to go, but there is one person that comes to mind. I drive to the apartment complex. Within a few swipes of my phone, I'm calling her. I hear, as the dial ends, a person yawning into the call. "Nozomi?"

"Figures you'd call on a school night, Maki-chan," she mumbles genially. I hesitate to mention my favor, when I remember that she's a teacher now. I'm treading on her friendship.  _Selfish_. "What's up?"

"Uh..." I can see from where I'm parked that she's turned on the lights now.

Her voice is brighter. She's entirely awake as she teasingly asks, "Hey, since you finally decided to call me, how's the road trip? Meet someone new?"

"No," I rebuke, my heart spiking up. I feel my face redden. That's the last thing I need to be doing. "I'm actually outside your apartment right now, Nozomi."

"Yeah, so? You know where my emergency key is," her voice maintains its warmness, but there's a lowness to her voice. The implication behind her words is not lost to me. I get out of my car and quickly climb the stairs, and I see her apartment door open. Warm, orange light pours out and then Nozomi appears, hair in a loose side-ponytail and in fuzzy pajamas. The matching snow bunny slippers are a nice touch. It's just so completely  _Nozomi_  that I get emotional. My pace quickens as I near her. She spreads out her arms invitingly. "You don't need to call to know you're welcomed here."

I feel like a lost child when I cling to her embrace. "But I  _do_  need to know," I squeeze her tight in greeting. I'm glad Nozomi doesn't pry as to why my eyes are watering. I'm glad when she directs me inside, and pours me a small cup of tea. I sit at the dinner table. Nozomi places the cup on the table as she sits across from me.

It's only after I pick up the cup that she speaks. "I want to get a few more hours of sleep, so." She cocks her head towards the other room. I nod, and Nozomi starts walking into her room. Her door clicks and I sit there, in silence. A few moments later her head pokes out again. "Maki-chan."

"Eh?"

She rolls her eyes, a childish grin sneaking onto her face. "I only have one bed. You're exhausted, and I have work in the morning." I stare blankly. "What I  _mean_  is, get over here. Sleepy time for us kids in our twenties."

Oh.

I laugh, a hand rubbing the back of my neck. "I think I'll crash on your couch, Nozomi." She pouts, but I shake my head firmly. "No, really, I... I think I should stay out here. You letting me in is more than enough." I focus on sloshing the tea from side to side.

"Maybe for you it's enough, but as the host, I absolutely can't have that," Nozomi doesn't hesitate to slide over to tug on my arm. I grip the ceramic cup and plant my feet on the ground. It's when I make eye contact with her -- wide amethyst eyes to questioning turquoise ones -- that she loosens her grip.

"... You know," she began slowly, moving away and sitting on the couch. "I was going to wait until after classes to talk, but--" she weighs her words carefully. I appreciate her effort as I make my way onto the couch. "girl talks like these are made especially for nighttime, aren't they?"

"You don't have to beat around the bush, but thanks for that." My finger catches a strand of hair and loops it around the digit. I look to the side. Nozomi could probably tell a million and one secrets with just a glance into my eyes. It's frustrating, but we wouldn't be as good of friends if it were any other way. "You want to know about the road trip."

"Not necessarily. I'm more interested in what brought you back."

I click my tongue. "I had nothing left to drive away from."

"So much for beating around the bush, huh?" I glare at her words-- at  _her,_  for twisting my words right back at me, but I made the mistake. Our eyes connect, and I can imagine what she sees: Maki Nishikino, a 20-something with nothing but a hideously thin bravado to keep up her facade. Her voice is soft when she asks, "How's Nico?"

I round the palms of my hands over my knees.

"She cut off contact not longer after you," Nozomi clarified, snow bunny slippers brushing against each other, "but unlike you, I couldn't tell with Nico. How she was doing. What went on in her head. She was... just out of my reach. All I knew was that her radio silence had to do with you." Her feet still, her eyes boring into the floor.

I notice the slack in the conversation, and I know it's my turn to speak, to voice the other end of the story. I breathe in with my nose. Exhale slowly through my mouth. I repeat. In. Out. Every gulp of air feels too final, too long, and too much. Nozomi makes no motion to comfort me-- and I know I shouldn't expect her to.

"She was catching a lot of interest for a new idol, you know," the words feel like I'm treading on a misused road, unvisited and neglected. My tongue feels thick. It takes more effort than I thought to voice myself. "and she had this upcoming interview. Her first time on television since Muse."

Nozomi cracks a small smile. "I remember her talking about that. She was ready to steal everyone's hearts."

My hand reaches up to my cheek. Tears. I don't know why and I don't think I should be crying. It feels uncalled for. "She... I. I didn't think she needed someone holding  _her_  heart when she was out stealing others." I brush the back of my hand against my cheek. "Dating me when she was just starting out would have only made things complicated. I didn't want her going to that interview with that. With me."

When her hand ghosts over mine, I lean against her shoulder. "She never went to the interview." At her words, my blood runs cold.

"But she was  _supposed_  to," I retract myself from Nozomi, standing up and facing her. I'm walking around something, something that I didn't want to consider. There's white noise in my ears and I can see it in Nozomi's eyes. The downward flicker, the slow blinking. She's trying to control her movements. "She needed a fresh start. It was for her. We broke up--"

I already know before I say it. This is all an excuse.

"-- for her own good."

I don't say anything else after that. Nozomi doesn't either. I collapse onto the couch, facing away from her. We stay like that for awhile. Nozomi leaves, and it's only by the dip of the couch do I sense her return. She slips me a handkerchief. I accept it. "That still doesn't answer why you're back now."

"I needed a fresh start for myself too." My words sound empty. Nozomi hums the first notes of a song as she combs her fingers through my hair --  _Snow Halation_. How ironic. A song about honest feelings around a person who drove away from her own feelings. I close my eyes when I finally mutter, "How long do you think it took me to believe that lie?"

Nozomi doesn't stop her hands, and I lose myself in the sensation. " _You_  need to say it, Maki-chan, not me."

" _Nozomi._ " I feel so needy. Inadequate. I can't even make the connection by myself, selfishly begging my friend in the middle of the night when she has other obligations, when I've returned home with no fair warnings. "please..."

Now her hands freeze.

"Maki-chan," her words register slowly. "none of this was on Nico. She's just-- she was unfortunate enough to be swept up in it."

Nozomi gets up with a glance at the clock. I curl into a tight ball on the couch.

"We can talk again after my classes," she concedes. She sounds withdrawn, and every bit of tired as I am. "Figure the rest out for yourself."

"Wait," I say as I hear her bedroom door creak. I don't move from my position. "I found Nico right before I came back." I don't know why I felt the need to tell her this, right now, before it's too late. Maybe it is too late. Maybe I still want to explain myself.

Nozomi closes her door.

She didn't offer to sleep in the same bed again. I don't know why I had expected that.

* * *

Nozomi nudges me to the front of the classroom, and I smile, a succinct jerk of my arm for an excuse of a wave. "Class!" The audience immediately settles their noise. I raise my eyebrows at their promptness. Nozomi has a genuine smile as all eyes land on the both of us. "We have a very special guest and dear friend of mine visiting us today."

"Nozomi," I curse under my breath. A part of me can't help but feel warm at her words. "I'm just an alumnus. Not that special."

"Um!" A hand in the far right corner of the class shoots up. In her orange hair is a side braid; alert warm eyes match her erect position. "You're Maki Nishikino, former member of Muse, aren't ya?"

There is chatter amid the girls, but the one who spoke is staring right at me.

"Yes, that's me," I speak directly to her. My nerves steel when I see expectant eyes, and I raise my chin. "I'm not one for formalities, but treat me as you would your teacher..." I take Nozomi's hand in mine. She squeezes our handhold briefly. "... my dear friend."

The collective  _ooh_ -ing isn't surprising. I feel some sort of confidence fill me, and I flip my hair over my shoulder for good measure. The girl stands up from her seat. "Wow! You're really are as cool as they say. The Diamond Princess of Muse--!"

The last school bell rings and cuts her off.

* * *

I lean away from the piano, arms propped on the bench. The resulting ambush of high schoolers and practical begging from the orange-haired girl is refreshing. I hadn't touched these ivory keys in so long. I hadn't considered myself a former idol in a while, either.

Nozomi is at the door of the music room, waving goodbye to the last of the remaining students. "You're a really good teacher," I observe nonchalantly when she sits in the front row of chairs. "Like, really good. They listen to you."

She smooths down the skirt she'd worn today. "Compliments only go so far, Maki-chan."

"Ha! Just take it for what it is," my laugh comes out tired and self-defeated. Revisiting the school is relieving just as it is a stark reminder to things I no longer am. "I forgot what this was like, you know, getting lost in the music."

Nozomi looks across the music room and out the window, where the afternoon sky is painted a reminiscent orange. "Hmm. Being in this school brings back a lot of things, doesn't it? But it's all different. Faces change, people don't know your name offhand."

I look out the window too. "What's wrong with that?"

Nozomi sighs. "What do you think?"

I could say a lot of things, but I know we aren't just talking about old memories anymore. "There's nothing wrong with keeping distance."

"In moderation," she agrees vaguely, the unfinished inflection in her voice leading me to believe that she's not agreeing that much at all. I shift my weight around on the piano bench. Outside, the yelling of baseball players is distant. "A person might lose themselves if they don't hold onto something--some _one_  tangible."

"Peoplehave to move on." I cross my arms. "And when everything else changes, I still have myself. There's nothing wrong with  _that_ , is there?"

A chair scratches against the floor, and I pivot myself to see Nozomi standing. "Stop it."

I straighten my back. The sunset casts itself on Nozomi, giving her an almost unreal glow on her figure. She looks much older than she actually is as she regards me with a frown. Every nerve of my body listens to her as she whispers, "Stop it. Stop forcing people to move on without you, just so you have an excuse for yourself." My lips press together. My teeth grind. "Maki-chan..."

"I know."

I can count on one hand the number of times I've surprised Nozomi.

I get up from the bench. I can't bear to look at her and I can't keep still so I walk to the window, overlooking the scrimmage below. "I know. I-- I keep coming up with reasons for leaving. Nico-chan needed space. I needed space. I needed a completely new life away from her. But I avoided  _why_  I wanted all of this.” I bite the inside of my cheek. "Why did I break up with the  _best_  thing to happen to me?"

Nozomi presses up behind me. Her arms are encircling like that of a mother, sad and emphasizing and unable to hide their loved one from the pain. No tears form, but my face contorts; I struggle to maintain my composure. I squirm weakly from Nozomi's hold, but she grips tighter.

I give up.

* * *

Of all the things spoken this afternoon, I don't say the one thing that needs to be said aloud.

* * *

Eli appears at Nozomi's doorstep a few days later. She's on tour (an idol, just like Nico), but she demanded a day off when she knew she'd be passing by. Upon Nozomi opening the door, Eli smothers me in a wordless hug, and I take it all in: the large shades, her blonde hair tucked into a beanie, the perfume I smell on the crook of her neck.

"We'll talk later," I whisper to her, and she nods.

"We  _better_. Don't drive off again, okay? I'll send paparazzi on you if I have to." She crosses her arms and pouts, shooting me glaring puppy dog eyes. I raise my arms in feigned defense. "I missed you a lot. Nico, too."

Nozomi's eyes widen a fraction at the mention of Nico, but I shake my head at the tiniest angle. Eli doesn't know, doesn't  _need_ to know. All she knows is that the rest of her subunit dropped off the face of the earth for a while, and that the rest of her subunit would be coming back. "Yeah, it's been awhile." I gather my things and start walking out the door. "Anyway, have fun, you two. Nozomi, try to stay off the couch. I sleep there."

I close the door, not bothering to see their reactions. I feel good about today. I open my car -- throwing in my cardigan and phone onto the passenger seat -- and get in, running my palm over the smooth leather of the interior. I hadn't been inside my own car in a while. Returning to this is much like other things the past few days. It isn't the same anymore.

There's a strange calmness in me as I accept that.

I pull out of parking and drive towards the shopping district. I decide the indoor plaza is a good place to waste the day. I can get lost in the crowd, different groups of people talking separately, all in unison. When I arrive at the plaza I sit at the closest bench, and before I know it, my eyes are closing. I tune myself in like a radio to passing conversations.

One girl has a date later tonight. A teenage boy is about to be interviewed for a part-time job. A middle-aged couple is contemplating what food to cook tonight. I lose myself in the mumbling, and I can almost hear an old grandma teasingly not-answering my question, a flower girl whispering love between petals, or a woman inscribing her entire identity into leather. The noise passes over and through me. Someone is talking. Someone is calling my name.

"Maki."

I see red eyes.

"Nico-chan?"

She sits on the opposite end of the bench. I stare at her as she keeps her face forward. Suddenly I have too many things to say in too little time, but instead I shift my gaze to the floor. I can't be the one to talk first. Nico looks good, at least. She's wearing a casual white dress, and she's left her hair down. Comfortable. I wonder how she's been, where she's gone.

The world continues to move but we are at a standstill. Nico reclines her head. "For two lost people, we have a funny way of seeing each other when it happens."

I breathe the words out, "If you don't want me here, I--"

" _No_ ," she stresses the syllable, turning to me. She is frowning, small and withdrawn and regretful. "This is all so fucking  _sad_ , and I don't care anymore, Maki. I just," she bites her lip. Her eyes stray. She shrugs her shoulders weakly. "I want to know why you left. Please."

It strikes a chord in me, seeing her like this. Like we're both at the ends of our lines. I make eye contact with Nico, and the fluid crowds fade away, as if nothing else mattered except to see her face to face. Gone are the high school girls who bantered for fun. We're older and different, two things that I'm not sure what to feel about.

"I was a coward, Nico-chan," I say, surprised at how easy it was to. I scrunch up my face as Nico raises an eyebrow. "I used to think this all started because I thought you were better off without me. But now, I know it's because I-- I didn't think I deserved you. I didn't deserve anything worth the world. Or, I guess I knew all along, but I could never admit it, especially not to you, or to myself. So I left, if it made getting over me any easier." I shake my head. "I even messed that up."

Nico says nothing, and her face gives nothing away. I blink slowly. The world starts to thread back into reality again.

After a few moments more, I get up to leave. Nico's gotten her answer. She doesn't need anything else from me, which means I can walk away. This chapter of my life will end and I will move on.

Fingers catch around my wrist. "When you first left, did you want to leave?"

I don't pull my arm back, and I don't hesitate when I say, "Never. I'd never leave you if I had the choice."

Her grip on me tightens. "Then what's stopping you from coming back?" These words are what cause me to turn. Nico is up from the bench too, a grim look on her face, but she's standing with a raised chin, a defiant posture. The gears are grinding in her head.

"I hurt you," I defend weakly. I feel small compared to her growing presence. I need to get away before I'm swept up.

She strides toward me, passing me with a stern look, and drags me by the wrist towards the parking lot. "Look, I've let you talk and talk, and you're so full of yourself that you don't even see-- I mean," she drops my arm as she whirls around. There is no one around except cars and ourselves. "what do you think I've been doing all this time? Crying over you?"

I clench my fists and look to the side.

"Maki, I was hurt when we  _finally_ met and I assumed everything was the same, when you clearly knew it wasn't. And, shit. I kept thinking about someone else touching you--" Nico grabs me by the shoulders and forces me against the nearest car. Her hips press against mine. I exhale and force my hands to stay at my sides. "I  _hate_  imagining that. You're mine."

My legs grow weak. I lean my full weight onto the carside. "What happened to you...? During all of this."

She huffs, frustrated, as she forces my shoulders down so I have no choice but to bend my knees. We're eye to eye as she says, "I had my own problems, and you breaking up with me was just one of them. My life doesn't revolve around you, but  _hell_ , do I want you in my life."

Nico pushes me all the way, and my jeans scrape against asphalt as I kneel. She follows after, kissing me from above. Her lips are pursed and I am frozen, wanting but not reciprocating, breathless from anticipation as well as a sharp jab of shame. When she pulls back -- confused, her mouth slack -- I raise my hands to hold her head close.  "I'm sorry," I whisper against her cheek. My entire body trembles. "I never got to say it to you in person."

She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel nails dig my clavicle. "Mm... Maki. Do you want this? Us?"

"More than anything in this world," I answer instantaneously, and I let myself get swept into Nico, sliding my hands to tangle in her hair as she goes for a kiss.

The road is still long, but we’ve made some progress.

I find I don’t have a problem with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. : )


End file.
